


emergency contact

by symphorine



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru Friendship, M/M, Pining, Post-Break Up, description of injuries but not very graphic either, kyoutani & oikawa reluctant friendship, mild violence at the start but not very graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 11:13:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8748283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/symphorine/pseuds/symphorine
Summary: Iwaizumi has to go undercover, and breaks up with Kyoutani, thinking it's better for both of them.Then he comes back, a little unexpectedly.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rarepairenabler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/gifts).



> I'M SORRY AMBER I PROMISE THERE ISN'T JUST ANGST IT JUST,, CAME OUT THAT WAY BUT I PROMISE THERE'S FLUFF TOO
> 
> anyway i wanted to write an iwakyou thing for you, so i hope you like this
> 
> my eternal thanks to amanda [candyharlot](http://archiveofourown.org/users/candyharlot/profile) for her help, i love you
> 
> enjoy!

Iwaizumi shoots and ducks, rolling behind one of the warehouse's pillars. It's not much, but it's better than no protection, especially since he's getting  _ shot at _ .

He tries to take a look at the position of the yakuzas, but the beating has left him clumsy, and the second he moves his leg, a bullet grazes it, and he has to retreat back behind his pillar.

He's called for help, he knows it's on its way – Oikawa would never leave him, even if he had to come to his rescue alone – but he's starting to wonder if he'll be alive to see it arrive. He's dangerously outnumbered, and down to his last bullets.

The gunshots fade together. Iwaizumi wonders, idly, as he checks his surroundings, if he's really going to see his life flash before his eyes. What would it look like? A childhood spent following Oikawa in his exploration of their neighborhood? The long hours dedicated to volleyball in middle and high school? The time he's spent with his friends, in college and then in training, drinking and laughing and stumbling home at four in the morning? He hopes it's that. He wants to leave with his happiest memories.

He rolls away, making his body as small a target as possible, and finds himself in the corner, between the wall and the stairs. He doesn't have a way out, now, but even if he had, it doesn't matter. He's too far away from any exit.

His happiest memories.

He knows they're all around him. Not many options left, then. He glances at the other end of the building. He's never going to reach it.

He takes a deep breath. Might as well not die cornered like a frightened rabbit.

He leaps out of his corner, and the doors to the warehouse bang open at the exact same time. All heads turn toward it, but he shoots three times before the wave of relief hits him, and he relaxes, just for a fraction of second, when he spots Oikawa.

And then pain explodes in his right side.

Everything seems so distant, all of a sudden. His gun falls from his hand, and the noise it makes when it reaches the ground is muted, far and foreign. Iwaizumi looks down and lifts his hand to where the pain is coming from, so slowly that it feels like a dream. Something under his fingers is wet, and warm.

_ Ah _ , he thinks, then stumbles back, one step, two steps.

His happiest memories.

He thinks of Kyoutani as he falls on his knees. He's thought about him a lot, these past few months. About his face, and the myriad of expressions Iwaizumi has seen come across it. About his hands – god, Iwaizumi has missed Kyoutani's hands, warm and strong and fitting in his own like they'd been made for it. About his voice, how rough it sounds sometimes, when being sincere takes everything out of him, when he's sad, when he's angry, when he told him not to leave.

He collides face first with the floor, and the last thought in his mind is that he'd really have liked to see Kyoutani one last time.

* * *

Kyoutani only wakes up enough to take the call on the fourth ring. He doesn't even open his eyes, just throws his hand blindly in the general direction of his nightstand, and bangs his finger on the wall pretty badly.

Finally, he gets his hand on his phone, and cracks an eyelid open to glance at the time. It's the middle of the night, unsurprisingly. Less expected is the caller ID. His phone doesn't recognize it, but it looks familiar. He debates with himself for a handful of seconds, then presses down just before it stops ringing.

"Yeah?" he greets, voice rough from sleep.

The answering voice is distorted, and too loud, so close to his ears, but his blood freezes when he hears it.  _ "Kyoutani? It's Oikawa." _

It can only mean one thing. Kyoutani sits up abruptly and throws the covers away, panic clawing at his throat.

"What happened?" he snarls.

_ "He's alive." _ The weight in Kyoutani's chest eases up a little, and he's grateful that's the first thing Oikawa told him.  _ "His cover got blown, he got shot. He's at the hospital. I'd have called you anyway, but you're still listed as his emergency contact, so you should be able to come in easily." _

_ Still listed _ . Kyoutani pauses in his quest for clothes – he's put on yesterday's pants and is struggling with a shirt. Still? He hadn't been listed  _ before _ . Had Iwaizumi put down Kyoutani's name before leaving?

It's not important right now.

_ "I'll text you the address," _ Oikawa concludes, his voice unusually serious.  _ "Get there as fast as you can, please." _

"Why?" Kyoutani can't help but ask, grabbing his wallet on his way out. "You said he was-"

_ "Alive, yeah. But -," _ Kyoutani can hear Oikawa swallow, on the other end of the line, and the fact that Iwaizumi is Oikawa’s best friend strikes him. He'd known, of course, but he'd never realized it so fully, so painfully.

_ "He's in bad shape," _ Oikawa finally says.  _ "They're prepping him for surgery." _

Kyoutani hears the tremor in Oikawa's voice, and he has to force himself to keep it together. If Oikawa can't keep up his usual front, it's  _ bad _ .

"I'm leaving now," he manages to say, even though his throat is so tight he can barely breath.

Oikawa hangs up without another word, and under other circumstances, Kyoutani might have gotten pissed, but this isn't their usual interactions.

_ Iwaizumi _ .

Kyoutani's shaking so much he can barely close his door. He doesn't take the elevator, it moves at the pace of an arthritic snail, and instead hurtles down the stairs so fast he almost falls, but he makes it down in one piece, though he practically runs into the door. The pain of the impact doesn't register; he needs to get out,  _ now _ .

Kyoutani glances around and notices a taxi a block away. He runs to it, and his lungs are burning by the time he reaches it, but he would have been out of breath anyway; his head is starting to feel light, and he doesn't know if it's the lack of oxygen or the sheer panic threatening to burst out.

The driver seems ready to lecture him on manners when he lets himself in, but he shows him the hospital address on his phone – he can't talk, or he might cry – and the man seems to understand.

Kyoutani has no idea how long the taxi ride takes, or how they get there. He spends it focusing on his breathing, on making it even and deep and regular, because if he doesn't, he thinks about Iwaizumi.

"Thanks," he says after paying, just before he bolts out of the taxi and runs to the entrance.

He never thought he'd be this glad to see Oikawa; he's waiting for him outside, leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his fingers.

"Oikawa," Kyoutani greets him.

He's wound up and ready to spring, but one look at Oikawa stops him.

He's tagged along on more than a few dates between Kyoutani and Iwaizumi, and called at the most annoying times, and has been a general pain in the ass. Through all this, Kyoutani has never seen him without a smile, and as obnoxious as it might be, it had grown to be an almost welcome sight.

Oikawa isn't smiling right now. He looks like Kyoutani feels; he lets the butt of the cigarette fall into the outdoor ashtray and pulls another one out of the packet. Kyoutani wonders how many he's smoked already.

"He's still in surgery," Oikawa offers, and at least his voice isn't wavering. Tense and barely controlled, but not on the verge of breaking.

"How is he?" Kyoutani asks.

His voice sounds raw, even to his own ears, and usually he would hate it, that he’s showing vulnerability in Oikawa’s presence. But this isn’t  _ usually _ , and Oikawa is too perceptive anyway.

Oikawa lights his cigarette. "Dunno. They told me they'd come get me when it's done. You can wait inside if you want," he adds, but it's obvious he's choosing to stay outside himself.

Kyoutani glances at the doors. There are people coming in and out in a steady stream; it almost fools  him into thinking it's _ not  _ four in the morning.

He wants to see Iwaizumi, but he's pretty sure sitting inside, alone, between the clear walls and the smell of antiseptic and vomit, won't help. So he takes a few jerky steps, until he can stand next to Oikawa. Oikawa isn't looking at him; he's not looking at anything. Kyoutani licks his lips. His mouth feels parched, and the cigarette smoke won't make it better.

"What happened?"

Oikawa exhales, slowly, blowing smoke in front of them. "The Yakuza got intel, realized he was a cop. He was warned by his informant, and he called for backup.They got to him before we did."

Oikawa's features are drawn tight across his face. He's not shaking, not like Kyoutani is, but he looks like he's  _ vibrating _ with – fear, anxiety, hope. Kyoutani catches a trace of guilt, but it's not his job to make it go away, and he wouldn't know how anyway.

He doesn't ask anymore questions, after that, and Oikawa stays silent, too. He just agitates his pack in front of him, and when Kyoutani shakes his head, slips it back into his pocket.

They're not the only ones here. A couple comes out, too, and goes to stand on the other side of the door. A middle-aged man steps out after a while, and paces a little bit on the side, biting his nails.

Kyoutani can’t stop thinking about Iwaizumi. He’s paralyzed by the fear that he might be  _ dying _ , less than a hundred meters from him,  _ right this moment _ . It takes everything he has to just  _ wait.  _ It helps to have Oikawa with him, obviously as tormented and impatient and scared, but it’s wrecking him.

He tries not to think too much, to stay focused on the wall behind his back and the people out with them and the halo of the city lights on the horizon, but he can’t help the thousands of thoughts about Iwaizumi pouring in. About his hands, and the first time they’d shared a bed, and Iwaizumi’s smile and the way it made it –  _ makes  _ him – even more beautiful, and their first kiss, and –

Focus. He needs to focus. He looks at the rows of cars in the parking lot and tries to commit them to memory, shoving any other thought aside.

The sun is coming up by the time someone comes to talk to them; Oikawa is lighting his last cigarette – he had  _ two  _ packs, apparently.

"Oikawa-san?" The nurse's voice startles Kyoutani, and he sees Oikawa jump from the corner of his eyes. They've been here for hours, silent and waiting.

Oikawa throws his cigarette away immediately. "Yes?"

"Your partner is out of surgery," the nurse says, tucking a strand of blond hair behind her ear. "His vitals are stable. Barring any complication in the next forty-eight hours," she adds with a smile, "he's out of danger."

Kyoutani's knees almost give out as his whole body lets go of the tension. From the strangled, wet noise that comes from his left, he'd say Oikawa's emotions are crashing down, too.

"Can we see him?" Kyoutani asks – pleads, almost; he wouldn't be above begging, right now.

"Depends who you are," the nurse explains with an apologetic grimace.

"Kyoutani Kentarou. I should... be listed as emergency contact."

She nods. "I'll just ask you to come and check with me that your listed coordinates are correct, then I'll take you both to his room. Don't expect him to wake up anytime soon," she warns as she leads them inside. "He needs the rest."

They follow her, and wait on the other side of her counter while she looks around for the right file.

"How come you're allowed like that but I'm not?" Kyoutani grunts, elbowing Oikawa.

He needs – something. He needs reassurance, he needs  _ normal _ .

"Perks of being a police officer, Kyouken-chan," Oikawa replies.

His grin is a ghost of what it should be, and the nickname doesn't piss Kyoutani off nearly as much as it used to, but it's familiar. Their tentative friendship had consisted mostly of that kind of back and forth – before Iwaizumi had gone undercover, and decided to break up with Kyoutani, and said not to wait for him, and then put Kyoutani as his emergency contact anyway, and then –

Gotten himself almost killed.

Kyoutani give his ID to the nurse without a word, and she gives it back after a minute.

"Follow me," she orders.

They take the stairs until the third floor, then turn right, and left, and left again, stopping in front of the door with the number 327 on it.

The nurse pushes the door softly, and it opens with a creak. Oikawa goes in without hesitation, but Kyoutani lingers, under the intrigued eyes of the small nurse.

Iwaizumi told him to forget him, move on; that it would be better for him.

Iwaizumi put him down as emergency contact anyway.

Iwaizumi almost  _ died _ .

Kyoutani steps inside and pulls the second chair. He winces at the noise, and sits down, on the same side as Oikawa. He doesn't hear the door closing behind them.

Iwaizumi is covered in bruises, blossoming on his arms and his face, which is all they can see for now. There's a line of stitches on his forehead, and his lip must have been split open. There's two IV lines; one, with a clear liquid, running to his hand, and the other, filled with blood, to the inside of his elbow.

Kyoutani can't believe how good it feels to see him after all these months. Even if he’d hoped it would be under other circumstances.

"Are you going to stay?"

Oikawa's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, and Kyoutani turns sharply. Oikawa looks exhausted.

"Yeah," Kyoutani answer. He hadn't needed to think about that, at least; it was a given. "I'll call in sick."

Oikawa's eyes stay fixed on him for a couple of seconds, then he seems to shake himself out of it.

"Good. I have to go back, I just..." His voice dies down as he glances at Iwaizumi. "I called his family, they should be there soon. Take the time to go home, take a shower, and put on actual clothes."

"Since when do you order me around?" Kyoutani bristles.

Oikawa rolls his eyes. "Just follow my advice, for once. I'm not telling you to leave him alone!"

Before Kyoutani can answer, Oikawa stands up. He gets closer to the bed, lifts his hand, and Kyoutani averts his eyes, to give him a sense of privacy.

"I'll be back later," Oikawa declares after a few seconds.

Kyoutani looks back at him and raises an eyebrow. "Shouldn't you sleep?"

Oikawa smiles, without any real humor, and glances at Iwaizumi. "Probably."

Kyoutani can't really blame him. He understands.

"Think about that shower, though," Oikawa adds with a smirk.

"Get the hell out," Kyoutani grumbles; Oikawa is already opening the door.

He leaves with a small wave, and then Kyoutani is alone. With Iwaizumi, but since Iwaizumi looks like he'll be asleep for quite a while, he doesn't really count on the conversation front.

Kyoutani drags his chair closer, enough that he can lean on the bed and thread his right hand fingers with Iwaizumi's.

He feels his throat tighten up again. He's missed him  _ so much _ . He doesn't squeeze hard, afraid to hurt Iwaizumi even more, but he bites his own lip that much harder.

He raises his left hand and reaches for Iwaizumi's face. He doesn't dare actually touch pretty much anywhere, since he’s covered in bruises, so he settles for brushing aside a few stray hairs.

"You still look good," Kyoutani tells him, quietly. "It's not fair."

Nobody else is there to hear the way his voice breaks on every word.

_ It's not fair _ . That's what he'd said, when Iwaizumi had told him that he was going undercover.  _ That's not fair either _ , he'd replied when Iwaizumi had suggested they break up.

_ It's not about being fair _ , Iwaizumi had sighed.  _ It's about not making you wait for me. I don't know how long it will take, I don't know when I'll come back, and I don't want you to put your life on hold because of me. _

He hadn't known  _ if _ he would come back at all, of course, but even through the argument that had followed, neither of them had dared to say it out loud.

And now they’re here, months after all that, with Iwaizumi lying, unconscious, in a hospital bed, and Kyoutani holding his hand like he’s the one who needs a lifeline.

He refuses to think of what could have happened. It's doesn't matter.

Iwaizumi isn't dead, and he's here, and for now, he can't even imagine asking for more.

* * *

The first time Iwaizumi remembers waking up, he can barely see. Everything around him is too bright, and blurs into a uniform white. He thinks he can hear people talking, but by the time the words reach his brain, they’re jumbled together. He can't make sense of anything.

He goes back to sleep.

The second time, it's slow.

He hears a soft, regular sound, and it takes him a minute to realize it's rain hitting the window.

He forces an eye open, then the other. Everything around him is clear, clean – it’s a nice change. His whole body feels numb and heavy, and he doesn't have the courage to try to lift a single finger, but he needs to know where he is. He turns his head, millimeter by millimeter, ignoring the stiffness of his neck.

Oikawa is here, eating a sandwich and playing on his phone, like he always does at lunch. The familiar sight eases something in Iwaizumi.

"Hey," he tries to say, but his throat is raw and his mouth hard to move.

Oikawa looks up so fast he could probably have gotten whiplash, and breaks into one of the biggest, brightest smiles Iwaizumi has ever seen on him.

" _ Finally _ ," he says.

Iwaizumi frowns slightly and opens his mouth to ask something; he starts to cough instead, and his mouth tastes a bit like blood.

"Stay there," Oikawa commands, like Iwaizumi is in any condition to leave.

He fumbles with the buttons on the side of Iwaizumi's bed, then finally finds the right one, and the section under Iwaizumi's torso starts moving up. Oikawa lets it go up until Iwaizumi is in that weird position that's half-sitting, half-lying, and then he grabs a glass of water and lifts it to Iwaizumi's lips.

Iwaizumi drinks in small sips, unable to manage more, but he finishes the glass, and feels infinitely better. He nods a little to thank his friend, who sits back on his chair.

"You're in the hospital," Oikawa declares. His tone is serious, but there's still a trace of a smile on his lips. "We got to you just in time. You got a bullet here," he says, showing his own left side, just under his ribs. "Apparently, it didn't touch anything important, but you lost a lot of blood. The surgery went well, from what Yacchan told me. You should be on your feet in a few days, but after that, you'll need physical therapy before you can come back."

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes. "Yacchan?"

"Oh! The nurse," Oikawa grins. "She's adorable."

If Iwaizumi had the energy, he would roll his eyes. This is so typical.

"'nything else?" he asks in a raspy voice.

Oikawa suddenly sobers up.

"You put Kyoutani down as your emergency contact."

It takes Iwaizumi a few seconds to understand the sudden subject change, then he remembers. He feels his face tighten, imperceptibly. He’d tried not to think about it too much, while he was still undercover.

"Jealous?" Iwaizumi deadpans, trying to deflect.

Oikawa doesn't smile.

"You broke up with him, for, and I'm quoting you, 'both of your own good', and then you went and put him as an emergency contact anyway," Oikawa elaborates. "Even knowing that  _ this _ ," he gestures at Iwaizumi – the bed, the IV dripping slowly, the bandages Iwaizumi can't see but can now feel on his skin, "could happen."

"I did," Iwaizumi replies in a defensive tone. For a blessed moment, just before the mission, he’d forgotten that he’d left Kyoutani, and habit had done the rest. He hadn’t had the courage to change it. "What?"

Oikawa grimaces. "It sounds more like the kind things  _ I  _ do, not  _ you _ . I'm not judging, obviously, but I thought we’d decided that  _ I _ was the selfish one."

Iwaizumi snorts, which he realizes quickly is not a good idea, because it  _ hurts _ . "You don't have the monopoly on stupidity."

"Well, at least you're self-aware," Oikawa smiles.

Iwaizumi licks his lips, hesitates for a second.

"Did he come?"

Oikawa's eyes soften. "Yes. Immediately. He stayed with you when I had to go. Your sister convinced him to go back to work two days ago, so he's been coming in the evenings, mostly. I told him not to camp into your room, but, as usual," he sighs, "he ignored me."

"Two days?" Iwaizumi repeats.

"It's been a week. You've been in and out for the last three days."

Silence falls between them. Oikawa goes back to his sandwich, but leaves his phone in his pocket.

Iwaizumi feels exhausted. His body hurts anytime he moves a muscle, including his face – he's guessing he's not a pretty sight right now. He should probably go back to sleep.

He's got a thousand questions. How long will the physical therapy take? Did they catch the yakuzas? Who sold him out? Was anyone else hurt?

How was Kyoutani? Did he look healthy? Was he pissed? How had they managed to wait together without tearing each other apart? Had Kyoutani said anything about –

"He's coming back?" Iwaizumi asks.

Oikawa sighs like Iwaizumi is being particularly obtuse. "Of course he is. You may have broken things up before your mission," he adds wryly, "but you're not just an ex to him, and he's not just an ex to you.  _ Maybe _ you should try talking about that, when he comes back."

Iwaizumi grins. "Relationship advice from you. Must be the painkillers making me hear things."

"Right, asshole," Oikawa smirks back. "I have to go, but your mom should be there around two. I'll come back tomorrow. Oh, and your stuff is in that bag," Oikawa remembers, pointing at a corner of the room too far for Iwaizumi to see.

He almost manages to flee, but Iwaizumi speaks up and he freezes.

"Oikawa."

Oikawa turns around. There's a complicated expression on his face, a mess of guilt and relief and pain, and Iwaizumi hopes that he'll never put it there again.

"Thank you," he says, as softly as he can.

Oikawa's features relax slightly. He nods, and then he's gone, the door shutting itself behind him.

Iwaizumi has no idea what time it is, and no idea how far away two o'clock is. He hopes it's close, because he doesn't feel up for dwelling on Kyoutani. It brought him comfort, during his time undercover, but right now, there’s no imminent danger to focus on, or cover to maintain. Which means he's painfully aware of the guilt sleeping in his guts.

* * *

Oikawa's text comes in the middle of Kyoutani's shift. He almost ignores it, on the basis that it's from Oikawa, and Oikawa spends more time nagging him and sending stupid selfies than saying anything important, but it might be about Iwaizumi.

He takes a look while Yahaba deals with a client.

_ "He woke up for real, I told him you'd come tonight. Don't fuck it up." _

He scowls at his screen, both because of the surprising lack of emojis, and the tone. He doesn't need Oikawa to give him that kind of shit, honestly.

Yahaba yells at him and he goes back to work, bumping into him on the way. Yahaba narrows his eyes at him, because this isn’t usual behavior for them anymore – they're supposed to have worked past pointless, aggressive petty things like that – but he can't bring himself to care. He'll apologize later, cover one of his shifts if he has to, to make up for how he's been these past few days, but he has other things to think about right now.

Iwaizumi, namely.

He tries to think about what to say the whole afternoon. There are so many things he wants to talk about, and so many ways to bring them up, but really, he's only got one question, so big it feels like it's looming over him. And he's not sure he wants the answer; Iwaizumi may have presented it as breaking up for Kyoutani's sake, to allow Kyoutani to move on, but it went both ways. It always did, with them.

He sprints home to shower and change into clean clothes, since, as usual after work, he's managed to get flour in every fold. His apartment is full of clothes thrown haphazardly, and there's two-days old dishes in his sink, since he hasn't really taken the time to come home and clean, these last few days. He still likes it better than how it was during the months after the break-up, too clean and barely looking like it was lived in. He'd slept at friends' more often than not; the Tanakas had started keeping a bed always ready for him, and Yahaba had ended up lending him the second set of his apartment keys.

Kyoutani cleans up and after a bit of rummaging, finds clean clothes – and fuck, he needs to do laundry soon. He almost tears the T-shirt in his haste, but he steps out looking presentable, and is out of his building in an instant.

He only stops on his way to get flowers. He knows Iwaizumi will appreciate them, and besides, it's customary when you visit someone at the hospital, right? He remembers something like that, vaguely.

It's a colorful bouquet of mismatched flowers, roses and daisies and freesias and some that he doesn't recognize. He clutches it in his hand and makes his way to the hospital, then to Iwaizumi's room. He greets the nurse of the first day, and she smiles back at him, radiant.

"For your boyfriend?" she asks, nodding at the flowers.

It stops Kyoutani in his tracks. He swallows. "We're not – we're not boyfriends."

"Oh!" she looks almost horrified at her mistake. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

"It's... okay," Kyoutani shrugs, suddenly feeling like running far, far away. "It's – complicated."

_ Understatement of the year _ .

"Oh," she repeats, softer. "Well, I'm sure he'll be happy to receive flowers in any case. Hospital rooms get quite boring after a while."

Kyoutani gives her a tight smile and takes the stairs. His feet get heavier with each step, and by the time he reaches the right floor, he's practically dragging himself. His heart is pounding, and his grip on the flowers is so tight it's starting to hurt.

It's been months since he's last had any contact with Iwaizumi. It had been like he'd disappeared, and if not for the few pictures of them he had kept on his phone, Kyoutani could have believed it had all been a dream. When he had tried calling Iwaizumi's phone, the pre-recorded voice had informed him that the number was 'no longer attributed'. It had felt like losing Iwaizumi again.

It hadn't hit him as much, during the hours he's spent in this room, while Iwaizumi was unconscious, but right now, it's almost overwhelming.

He gathers all the courage he can find, lifts his hand, and opens the door.

The room is nothing new: it's still clear, and clean, and bare, with a bag full of Iwaizumi's belonging pushed in a corner, brought by Oikawa. Iwaizumi's family had visited, too, left him a few books and get-well cards, stacked on the nightstand. It's a familiar sight, now.

But this time, Iwaizumi is awake and he's looking right at Kyoutani.

Being the focus of Iwaizumi's undivided attention used to make him feel amazing, but he's not sure what meaning it has, now. He closes the door and walks up to the bed, slowly, because his legs are even heavier now.

There's a couple of seconds where neither of them says anything, and Kyoutani uses them to look. Iwaizumi's bruises have blossomed into blue and purple, and make him look menacing, combined with the short line of stitches on his forehead, and his intense look isn't making it better. Yet Kyoutani wants nothing more than to  _ touch _ , to protect him, to take Iwaizumi in his arms and never let him go again.

"I brought flowers," he says instead, to fill the silence.

"Thanks," Iwaizumi replies. He looks away quickly, like he's afraid to look at Kyoutani too long. "There should be some kind of vase in the closet," he adds.

Kyoutani nods and puts down the bouquet to go look into the closet. He can feel Iwaizumi's eyes on his back, but when he turns again and tries to meet his gaze, Iwaizumi is looking out the window.

Kyoutani fills the vase with water and puts the flowers in it. He tries to arrange them like they were in the bouquet, but he mostly succeeds in messing it up even more, and after a few heartfelt curses under his breath, he gives up and turns back toward Iwaizumi.

Iwaizumi is looking at him again, this time with a little smile Kyoutani knows too well, and just like that, his heart slows down, and he feels calmer.

He sits down in the chair closest to the bed, and takes a few seconds to choose his words.

"I-"

"We-"

Iwaizumi laughs a little, and Kyoutani lets his own smile tug at his lips. He's missed Iwaizumi's voice – he's missed his  _ everything _ .

"You go first," Iwaizumi offers.

Kyoutani presses his lips together. It's not something he's ever thought he would say.

"I'm glad you're alive."

Iwaizumi's smile fades a little.

"Me too," he replies, as softly as he can, though his voice sounds rough. "I'm glad you came to see me."

"Of course I did," Kyoutani shrugs. "It's not like we're on bad terms."

Iwaizumi looks like he's been punched, and there's a tiny part of Kyoutani that feels viciously satisfied. He pushes it far, far away from the present. He's not here for some kind of revenge; it was never about that.

"Would you have come even if you- if I hadn't put you as emergency contact?" Iwaizumi asks.

Kyoutani glances at Iwaizumi's hand, carefully folded, and at his shoulders, rigid under the tension. He wants to answer, he does, but the words won't come out.

"Why did you do it?" he asks back instead. "We weren't together anymore."

Iwaizumi's lips twist in a wry smile. "Moment of weakness," he confesses. "And I didn't think this would happen."

Kyoutani snorts. "You went undercover as a member of the Yakuza and you thought it would all go well?"

"I've been told optimism might be a flaw in my line of work," Iwaizumi nods semi-seriously.

They're quiet again. Kyoutani plays with a lone thread attached to his T-shirt, twisting it around his fingers over and over, ignoring the words burning at the back of his throat.

"How have you been?" Iwaizumi finally says.

Kyoutani winces. "The usual. Went to work, pissed Yahaba off, beat Tanaka at arm-wrestling." He shoots for casual, and is pretty sure he misses by an astronomic length, but what else is he supposed to say?

"Well. That was a quick summary," Iwaizumi comments.

There's no particular tone to his voice. Silence falls again. Kyoutani wracks his brain to find something else to talk about, anything, but it all comes back to the same things. Iwaizumi doesn't look like he's faring much better – he's staring at his hands and picking at his nails, like he does when he's embarrassed.

It's still overwhelming, and yet it's not enough. It feels like nothing, compared to months of regrets and doubts and longing. They're playing at who will break the subject first, but Kyoutani knows that they're too good at that game, both of them.

_ Don't fuck it up _ . He wonders if Oikawa has said something like that to Iwaizumi, too.

He shifts in his chair, and Iwaizumi looks up at him, almost hopeful. Kyoutani hesitates, but – it's his turn, this time. To be strong for the both of them.

"I would have come," he tells Iwaizumi. "I would have come anyway, even if Oikawa hadn't called me." He wanted to stop at that, but it's like he's broken a dam. "It was a relief, honestly, because I spent five fucking  _ months _ not knowing what was happening to you, and I wasn't even sure I would know, ever. I was-" he falters, has to stop and swallow and ignore the way Iwaizumi's eyes are too bright.

"Kentarou..." and wow, if that doesn't feel like his heart is being stabbed. He's  _ dreamed  _ of this, of Iwaizumi calling his name,  _ so much _ .

"Let me finish," he cuts him off. He hates how is voice is shaking, but if he doesn't say this now, he'll never say it at all. "I felt like shit for five months, because I couldn't forget you, and certainly not  _ move on _ – that was stupid.  _ You're _ stupid for suggesting it, and I'm stupid for thinking you were right; I kept thinking about you, I couldn't even stay home because it reminded me of you, and I was- I was scared you would  _ die _ , and I wouldn't know. I wouldn't  _ know _ . So yeah," Kyoutani whispers with his broken voice. "I'd have come anyway. 'cause I don't know about you, but breaking up didn't help me. At all."

He closes his burning eyes and inhales, but the tears come anyway. He blinks furiously, and he feels them slide down his cheek, silent, overdue.

"Kentarou," Iwaizumi calls him. "Kentarou, please, look at me. Please."

Kyoutani wipes his tears on his sleeve and looks. Iwaizumi is crying, too, and his jaw clenched way too tight, but he's reaching for Kyoutani, holding out his hand, and Kyoutani doesn't have any strength left in him; he takes Iwaizumi's hand in his own, and threads their fingers together, and it's almost painful in how  _ right _ it feels.

"Kentarou," Iwaizumi repeats, like it's the answer to everything. "Kentarou. I missed you so fucking much. I was  _ miserable _ ," he confesses in a breathless voice. "I missed you, I missed you all the time, I don't know why I ever thought this was a good idea, I'm sorry, I-"

Iwaizumi's voice breaks, and Kyoutani holds his hand even tighter before letting go. He wipes his own fresh tears, then he lunges forward and embraces Iwaizumi.

He feels his surprised gasp where their chests touch, and before he can reacts, Iwaizumi's arms are there, holding him down and close. They don't feel as strong as they used to, but they're there, warm and solid, and all that keeps him from breaking down entirely. He buries his face in Iwaizumi's shoulder; beneath the hospital smell, there's that fragrance that's uniquely  _ Iwaizumi _ , and it's the last straw.

It's a long time before they stop crying, and even after that, Kyoutani doesn't want to let go. Ever.

"I missed you so much," Iwaizumi whispers.

Kyoutani mumbles in the crook of Iwaizumi's neck, like it's a secret, like he didn't just pour his heart out to Iwaizumi. "Me too."

Eventually, it gets uncomfortable, and he has to straighten up, but he takes Iwaizumi's hand in his again. It's grounding, to be able to touch him. He drags the chair closer to the bed before he sits back down.

"I would kiss you, but my entire face hurts too much," Iwaizumi grins.

Kyoutani answers with a smile of his own. "You'll make it up to me later."

"God,  _ yes _ ."

* * *

Iwaizumi can't stay still. He's been waiting for his discharge for what feels like an eternity, even if he knows it's only been a few days. He can't wait to be out of the hospital, out of his  _ room _ . He's had frequent visits, and the nurses are all very nice, but he's not made to be inactive.

His parents had to go back to Miyagi, and his sister is working, but Oikawa and Kyoutani are supposed to come pick him up. It's infuriating, to have to wait for them because he can't even hold his own damn bag himself, but he definitely doesn't want to reopen the wound and stay in the hospital any longer than he has to.

He takes a look around his room. It feels too small, but not as impersonal and clinical as it could have. The barely made bed and the touch of color from Kyoutani's flowers could almost make it look welcoming.

"Sad to go? I'm sure they could let you stay a little longer," Oikawa quips from behind him, cheerful as ever.

Iwaizumi almost jumps from the surprise. Oikawa is lucky he’s not in top shape right now; he knows it, the asshole, grinning at him as he walks closer.

"Do you want to keep me company?" Iwaizumi threatens, glaring at his friend. "Something in facial surgery, maybe."

Oikawa smiles, unaffected. "You wouldn't dare. I'm too pretty."

Iwaizumi fakes a sigh. "True. I'll have to break your legs then."

"I feel so loved," Oikawa declares, engulfing Iwaizumi in a hug.

It's a bit tight, but he's careful not to touch Iwaizumi's most painful areas, and Iwaizumi has to admit he's missed friendly human contact, so he endures the soreness in his muscles to hug him back.

"Wow, you feel thin. Did you lose muscle?" Oikawa asks loudly.

He dodges with a laugh when Iwaizumi tries to punch him in the arm. "Still plenty enough to kick your ass."

"But not to hold your bag."

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at his best friend, who raises his hands in defense.

"Oh, are you finally arresting him? Good," Kyoutani intervenes.

"What  _ is it _ with people and coming in without knocking?" Iwaizumi mutters.

Kyoutani shrugs and comes closer, leaning in just long enough to kiss him. Iwaizumi remembers a time when doing it in public made Kyoutani go red from embarrassment; now it feels like second nature.

"Sadly," Oikawa interrupts, "while I appreciate your interest in the matter, I won't be going to prison."

"Good thing, too. You'd drive everyone crazy with your constant whining," Iwaizumi retorts.

Kyoutani laughs, and Oikawa rolls his eyes. "You're free to carry your bag yourself, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi sneaks an arm around Kyoutani's waist. "Good thing my boyfriend is here, then."

He would laugh at the way Kyoutani straightens, but if he's honest with himself, he's probably have the same reaction the other way around. He savors the word every time he gets to say or hear it. He has a boyfriend again; he has  _ Kyoutani _ again. It feels better than he'd imagined, and he'd imagined plenty, during the last five months.

"So sweet," Oikawa comments. "I'll wait for you two downstairs, then. I'll bring the car to the entry."

For once, Iwaizumi is grateful for Oikawa's talent at disappearing so quickly. Kyoutani rolls his eyes, but Iwaizumi doesn't miss the hint of fondness. It makes him happy; he'd feared, for a long time, that the two most important persons in his life really wouldn't get along. They weren't the best of friends now, but it was better than the thinly veiled hostility that had reigned for the first few weeks of his and Kyoutani's relationship.

"We should go," Kyoutani says, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He's hauled Iwaizumi's bag on his shoulder, and is holding out his hand, palm turned upwards.

Iwaizumi takes it, revels in feeling Kyoutani’s fingers between his own. "Sure."

He waves at Yachi on their way down; she gives him the thumbs up. They've said their goodbyes earlier, and exchanged numbers, though Iwaizumi's pretty sure Oikawa has Yachi's already. She's kept him company a lot, this past week, when nobody could come.

When they reach the lobby, Iwaizumi can barely keep himself from running outside. He relaxes the moment he  _ finally _ steps outside, and judging from the way Kyoutani's fingers press into his, he must have picked up on it.

Oikawa is waiting for them not far from the entrance. They walk up to him slowly. Iwaizumi has to suppress a pained groan when he takes a wrong step and has to pause for a moment, but Kyoutani waits for him patiently.

"Finally!" Oikawa hails them. "I was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"Just open the door," Iwaizumi and Kyoutani say together, in the exact same exasperated tone.

They smile at each other, and Oikawa looks actually taken by surprise, for once. He complies, and after Kyoutani has put away the bag in Oikawa's trunk, he slides in the backseat, while Iwaizumi is struggling to find a comfortable position in the passenger seat.

"Are you done squirming, Iwa-chan?"

"It's not my fault your car is a piece of junk," he grumbles.

Oikawa levels an unimpressed stare at him as he sits behind the wheel. "You can always walk."

Iwaizumi finally manages to clip his seat belt. To be fair, Oikawa's car has been with them for a long time, with minimal faltering. To be fairer, it's so old and worn that it's a wonder it hasn't just fallen apart yet. There's the lingering smell of the coffee Oikawa drinks when he goes to work, and spills at least once a week; the coffee stains cover older ones, that were already there when Oikawa had bought the car, during their second year of college.

"Stop being an ass and drive," Iwaizumi snaps.

Oikawa smirks, like he's ready to shoot something back, but seems to reconsider. He starts the car instead. They're on the road in no time, and the ride is, thankfully, pretty short to Kyoutani's apartment. Iwaizumi refuses any help to step out of the car, and though he twists the wrong way twice, he reaches the sidewalk in one piece. Kyoutani has retrieved his bag, and silently extends his hand again.

"Well, I'll leave you lovebirds to it, then," Oikawa winks exaggeratedly. He hasn't even turned the car off. "I gotta run back to work, but I'll tell everyone you're fine and as mean as ever."

"You're the only one who deserves it," Iwaizumi reminds him with a smile.

Oikawa nods gravely. "Great honors often feel painful." His expression sobers up for a second, and he looks between Kyoutani and Iwaizumi with a hint of a real smile. "Take it easy."

"He will," Kyoutani promises.

"You think you can boss me around?" Iwaizumi asks.

Kyoutani leans in before he answers. "You think I can't?"

" _ And _ that's my cue to go!" Oikawa announces to no one in particular.

He waves at them one last time and gets into the car, grunting something about 'keeping your hands to yourselves' just loud enough for them to hear before leaving. They watch his car go up the familiar road, and disappear after a corner.

"Ready to go?" Kyoutani casts an inquiring look at him.

Iwaizumi smiles and lets all the fondness he feels for him fill his eyes. "Ready to come home."

It's pretty fun to watch Kyoutani get all red, surprised by his words.

"You're doing it on purpose," Kyoutani accuses.

"Absolutely," Iwaizumi admits shamelessly. "Doesn't make it any less true, though."

Kyoutani rolls his eyes at him, but he's smiling too, so Iwaizumi doesn't take offense. "You spend too much time with Oikawa."

"Well. Good thing I'm going to live with you, then, right?" Iwaizumi points out.

Kyoutani looks at him. He's captivating, Iwaizumi thinks: the angle of his jaw, the curve of his eyes, and the lines of his face, all sharp and rough and handsome, bending to express the same feeling growing in Iwaizumi's chest.

"Yeah," Kyoutani says, simply.

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, tumblr post [here](http://asexualkurootetsurou.tumblr.com/post/154073594609)!
> 
> EDIT: NOW WITH [AMAZING ART](http://muffinhoe-thedragon.tumblr.com/post/154089372787/emergency-contact-by-symphorine) BY DRAGGY


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